


Happy Birthday

by relightthatspark



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:53:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29365809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relightthatspark/pseuds/relightthatspark
Summary: The perspectives of those left behind.
Relationships: Emily Patterson & Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), Julie Molina & Julie Molina's Mother
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Happy Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again! Thank you all so much for your comments & kudos on my last story! Today, I wrote this thing, because it is the birthday of someone I love who has died, and I've been thinking about them. This takes place in 2020, during the timeline of the first season. I hope you guys enjoy it!

**Emily Patterson**

Her son would have been forty-two years old today.

Emily could just picture it: Luke, arriving at her front door with his wife and children on his heels. Their arguments about his music long in the past, because life was short, and it was more important to love each other while they could.

They would all sit down around the living room; Mitch would head into the kitchen to pull the cake out of the oven. They’d decorate it together; Luke would still put too many sprinkles on top. 

They might joke about Luke’s age; his kids would call him old, and Mitch would fake offense, sling his arm around Emily’s shoulders, and bellow, “Well, what does that make  _ us _ , then?” 

Then they would talk, and laugh, and make new memories with each other that would force the old painful ones even deeper into the past. 

It would have been a great day.

Instead, Emily Patterson spent her son’s forty-second birthday alone, with her husband, blowing out the candles on a birthday cake that definitely did not have enough sprinkles.

She wished that she could just talk to him one more time. To tell him that, no matter what sort of disagreements they’d had, she loved him. That she should have just given his music a chance. She hadn’t known that there would only be so many opportunities for her to hear him sing. 

He had always been an amazing singer. Emily knew that even though she had not wanted that sort of life for her son, Luke had had  _ talent. _

She should have told him that. Instead, they had fought, and Luke had left. He had  _ died _ , and they had never had the chance to fix what was broken. 

Now, Emily would never get that chance.

Grief was a funny thing, she had learned. Some days, she woke up and it hit her like a truck that her son was not there. The force of the realization always left her gasping, tears in her eyes. 

Some days, it felt like the house was too quiet. She hated the silence; the three of them had spent far too long in silence, too stubborn to reach out to each other. They should have talked more.

Some days, insignificant things would happen, and the grief would engulf her with a vengeance: Mitch would trip over his own feet, and she’d remember the times that Luke would make fun of his dad for being too clumsy. She would put too much pepper on their steaks, and she’d remember all the times Luke would wipe it off with a napkin. There would be a thunderstorm, and she’d remember how, instead of being afraid of the lightning, her son had thought it was one of the coolest things in the world. 

Every day, she’d think about him— what he’d be doing, or saying, or wearing. It drove her insane. And she’d realize that she would never get to make any new memories with him ever again. 

And then, she would cry. 

Things just weren’t the same without Luke. Her world was too quiet; her arms were too empty. Emily always tried to keep herself occupied with something. She’d fill her days with activity, just so that, maybe, she could stop drowning in the pain for a while. She tried to knit, but it just wasn’t the same.

She never had finished the sweater she’d been knitting that night. And Emily knew that she never would. 

  
  


There had been a gaping hole in her chest for almost twenty six years now. 

Luke Patterson was too young to die.

His mother felt empty. 

* * *

**Julie Molina**

Rose Molina’s birthday was March 4th. 

Julie had gotten a kick out of that as a child; her fierce, determined mother having the only birthday on the calendar that gave a command.

She felt her mother’s absence every single day, but some days were worse than others. She tried to continue on-- to power through it, just like Rose had requested she do. But it was hard, knowing that every morning that she woke up, her mother should be, too. But Rose couldn’t wake up. She’d never wake up again.

Some days were bad, and Rose’s birthday was one of them. 

Julie woke up on the first March 4th since her mother’s passing feeling strange. Rose had been gone for almost a full year. Julie had grown accustomed to it by now— the pain that crept after her everywhere she went, like a shadow. But this time, the feeling in the pit of Julie’s stomach felt foreign; a new kind of grief. She realized that, although all the holidays had gone by that past year without her, this was Rose’s first birthday  _ after _ . 

Julie thought back to Rose’s “before” birthdays. The four of them— Rose, Ray, Julie, and Carlos— had had a few traditions for the day. The kids would stay home from school, because “Rose Day” was meant to be spent with family. Ray would wake Julie and Carlos up early, and the three of them would sneak downstairs to make waffles before Rose woke up. Rose loved hers with whipped cream, syrup, and two cherries; Ray would always comment that it looked more like dessert than breakfast. Rose would give one of the cherries to Carlos, and one to Julie. 

Then, after they cleaned up breakfast, the four of them would go into Rose’s music studio in the garage. Julie would play a rendition of “Happy Birthday” for her mom on the piano, and they’d all sing. Then Rose would request another song, and Julie would play that, too. And after that, they’d play together, sitting side by side on the piano bench, fingers dancing down the ivory keys. 

In the afternoon, Tia Victoria would come over. The five of them would prepare dinner, whatever Rose wanted to have. 

And they would always have cake, too: chocolate, Rose’s favorite. 

This was the first March 4th in Julie’s life where she wouldn’t have waffles for breakfast and spend the day with her mom, singing and laughing. 

She couldn’t imagine ever playing music again. Her mother  _ was _ the music; without her, the world was silent. As it should be. 

Rose Molina was too young to die. 

Her daughter would never sing again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Question for experienced fanfic writers-- what kinds of works need to be put into a series? I know that this fic is kind of similar to my last one. How do I know if they should be put into a series, or stand by themselves? Is it a preference thing? What makes more sense to a reader? Thanks for any feedback you can give on this!


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